


The Low Light

by Vilna



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/F, First Meetings, Genderbending, One Night Stands, Shiro is a handsome butch, but with hope for a future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 03:18:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20464145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vilna/pseuds/Vilna
Summary: ”How do you know I’m not an axe murderer?” she asks, chuckling to herself.”Trust me,” Keith breathes against her mouth, forever teasing, ”if you actually were an axe murderer, you wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”





	The Low Light

**Author's Note:**

> I have this bigger WIP in the works but it will take me actual ages to finish it so I wanted to write something different for a change. :') I've wanted to do lesbian sheith since forever and I finally did! I loved writing this!! 
> 
> But now I kind of want to write a longer & bigger genderswap-au, RIP

Perhaps it’s the ridiculously expensive whiskey or the third glass of red wine. Maybe it’s the anniversary of Adam leaving her, exactly five months ago, leaving nothing but broken promises and dirty bedclothes behind. Or it could be the fact that she doesn’t have long now before the end of all things. 

But maybe all of these things don’t matter, they’re only thoughts slipping past, slowly, like spring water slowed down by moss. Like a hunting hawk in the sky before striking for prey. Shiro has never been either, nobody taught her to.

But there’s a girl across the bar counter, sat down ten minutes ago. Shiro hasn’t looked away from her since she walked in.

It’s a girl with red lipstick but no mascara. A girl with a black biker jacket, and a blacker dress, heels so high they make Shiro’s feet ache. Her hair is black, too, and weirdly cut, the strands a mess. It’s uneven and she probably did it herself in front of a bathroom mirror after someone told her that pretty girls like her aren’t allowed to have a short hair. She’s at least five years younger, possibly less if she just has one of those faces. The bartender asked her for ID before pouring her a pint of dark beer.

The expression on her face, though; it’s as lonely as Shiro’s. But it's also something more, something deeper. Like a typhoon of emotions. Shiro would like to know them all and pick the best of them.

But despite of that, or because of that, rather, she’s beautiful and everything Shiro’s not. If Shiro knew her, if this wasn’t the first time she’s ever seen her, if she had talked to her in the past, Shiro would tell this girl she’s fucking perfect. Or at least, perfect in this moment, perfect for someone like Shiro who feels achy and tired and needy inside.

It’s one of those idle thoughts you know are true even if you don’t have the evidence for it. Yet.

It’s been maybe half an hour of Shiro staring off and on, at this girl, this perfect girl she could take home tonight, when she makes eye contact.

Both of them startle at first and the girl blinks a few times in confusion when Shiro doesn’t turn her gaze away. Shiro hopes her expression is carefully neutral, she doesn’t want to come on too strong, lesbians like her are labeled as predators too often and you always have to be careful. But after awhile, the girl raises a brow and _smirks_.

Shiro swallows and takes another sip of her wine. It’s her fourth one, she thinks. She doesn’t look away, though, even if she kind of wants to. She has never done this. She doesn’t often go to bars and she has never found anyone interesting there, either. She was with Adam for six years and hardly knows what life is like without her.

But maybe she wants to know, now.

It takes another half an hour before the most perfect girl makes her way to Shiro. She doesn’t falter in her six inch heels but her steps are slow, considering. She seems as unsure as Shiro, but she was able to ignore it, unlike her.

Shiro stares at her when she finally reaches her. She doesn’t even sit on the empty stool next to Shiro’s. No, she leans on the bar counter and crosses her bony ankles. She took her beer with her and now she takes a long gulp of it, all the while keeping her lilac eyes on Shiro’s own.

Shiro has no idea what to say.

”You come here often?” the girl finally asks, after a minute of silence. Immediately she bites her lower lip as if she’s embarrassed to say such a thing, the most used up pick-up line there ever was.

Shiro doesn’t laugh. ”Not really, no,” she answers surprisingly easily. ”I don’t really drink.”

It’s true but the girl snorts. ”Could have fooled me,” she says and points out the numerous empty glasses in front of Shiro the bartender hasn’t taken away yet.

Shiro scratches her flushed neck with her right her hand. The girl doesn’t say anything about the prosthetic even if her gaze lingers on it for a few heartbeats.

”A bad breakup?” she asks, her intention so obvious Shiro can see her blush even in the low light. It’s endearing.

”No,” Shiro says quickly and clears her throat. ”I mean, not exactly. It’s been awhile since that. Five months today,” she says, a little moronically, ridiculously. The point comes across, anyway.

”She was the idiot, I assume,” the girl say, making herself even more perfect in Shiro’s eyes. She breathes a sigh of relief.

It’s a blessing really, to look like her. To look so gay everyone knows it before speaking a word to her. Not one man has ever come on to her, it’s obvious to the roots.

”Both of us were idiots,” Shiro says, allowing Adam that much. Even if she's still bitter. ”Mostly her, though,” she adds if only to make the other one smile, just a bit.

And she does. This small, a little fragile thing that makes something inside Shiro crack open. It’s painfully obvious this girl hasn’t done this before, picked up women in bars such as this. And it’s okay, Shiro can show her the way.

”Shiro,” Shiro says then.

”What?”

”Shiro,” she smiles. ”That’s my name.”

”Oh,” she breathes out. She looks hopeful, like this is something she actually wants. It’s a weird feeling for Shiro. This is new for her, too, even if she’s been with other women (one man but that doesn’t matter because it was before she recognised herself), a lot of women, actually. She’s a thirty-year-old who has always known the end is going to come a little quicker for her.

”I’m Keith,” she says, possibly a little too fast.

”Keith.” Shiro can taste the name in her mouth. ”Keith,” she says again. ”That’s a nice name.”

Keith snorts but doesn’t say anything else, just sips her beer a few times in a row.

”So, Keith,” Shiro says, ”do _you_ come here often?”

Keith looks at her. ”Nah,” she answers, ”not really my scene, either.”

”Huh,” Shiro breathes out like she didn’t already expect it. ”Want to get out of here then?”

Keith looks at her right in the eyes, they are like a lavender field burning. Neither of them look away for a long while.

”I thought it would take at least an hour for you to ask,” she says. ”But lead the way.”

Shiro does.

Neither of them are really _that_ drunk, Shiro has a high tolerance and Keith barely drink one beer, but they still stumble through Shiro’s front door, giggling and kissing the whole way. Keith’s lips have swollen puff, the red lipstick is stained like a frame around them. Shiro is sure her own lips are a mess of it as well, loving the thought of it.

Shiro peels off Keith’s jacket but leaves her dress on, for now. Her heels are strapped ones so Shiro kneels down and helps her out of them, kissing the tender bone of her ankle before rising up again. Keith is small without the extra six inches, skinny but lean with muscles. She’s short but looks like she could easily kick some guy’s ass if she had to.

Shiro has always been tall and strong for a woman, the size difference makes her impossibly wet inside her boxer briefs. Her moan is low when Keith stands on her tiptoes to kiss her again. Keith grins against her collarbone when they part, murmuring something Shiro can’t quite catch with humming of blood in her ears.

A sudden thought makes her laugh breathlessly and Keith lifts her head to look at Shiro’s crinkling eye corners.

”How do you know I’m not an axe murderer?” she asks, chuckling to herself. Keith was immediately willing when Shiro asked her to come with her to her home, didn’t even pause to think about it once. Too trusting, almost. Someone other than Shiro could take advantage of that, she’s sure. ”You came with me here, to my home, without any protest,” she continues, ”this would be the perfect time for me to strike.”

”Trust me,” Keith breathes against her mouth, forever teasing, ”if you actually were an axe murderer, you wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”

”Fuck, that’s hot,” Shiro groans, her cunt pulsing for Keiths words, ”how do you know that? You know I probably weigh twice as much as you.”

As if to make her point, Shiro picks Keith up by grabbing Keith’s slender leg and hooking it up around Shiro’s waist. Neither of Keith’s feet touch the wooden floor, she’s so much bigger than her.

”Because,” Keith whispers in to Shiro’s ear, biting the lobe of it with sharp teeth, making Shiro shiver, ”I’ve got a black belt in two different martial arts.”

Then she lifts herself up so that both of her legs are curled around Shiro’s hips, her dress gathering around her stomach, baring her flimsy strings of her an underwear that leave nothing to imagination. She apparently doesn’t shave, at least completely bare, her black and coarse pubic hair out loud and proud. It’s pretty damn hot. 

”Oh my fucking God,” Shiro moans, laughing underneath her breath, ”you’re fucking incredible, baby,” she says, almost accidentally, shaking her head in awe. Her hand is under Keith ass and she grasps it with her palm, she squeezes the firmness of it.

She hopes Keith knows that. She hopes someone has said that to her before and she believed them.

Keith’s hand around Shiro’s neck tighten. She scratches the back of her neck with manicured fingernails, almost like soothing the skin.

”You, too,” Keith mumbles and how can she even know that, after they have only known each other for little more than an hour.

But it’s something Shiro is probably not supposed to hear. So she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t question it, when Keith rests her forehead against her own and just looks into her eyes for a few very long ages. Shiro swallows.

This fucking perfect girl. How is she even real? Shiro doesn’t believe in fate or destiny or higher power, but how can this just be a coincidence. Everything about this feels so right, feels like this girl was made for Shiro alone. She swallows empty air again.

Fuck.

”You okay?” Keith asks with a fragile voice when Shiro remains quiet and thoughtful. She nuzzles Shiro’s neck after having slid down a bit in Shiro’s loosened arms. She improves her grip and lifts Keith more securely against her again.

”Yeah, ’course,” Shiro says, smiling up at her. Keith’s eyes have a happy twinkle in them.

”Good,” she says, ”now c’mon and fuck me up.”

Shiro’s eyes widen in slight shock before she chuckles. She carries Keith across the hallway and presses her against a wall. 

”Such a demanding baby,” she murmurs in awe and slides her fingers into the wet heath of Keith’s cunt from behind. It’s her prosthetic hand but it doesn’t seem to bother Keith who just gasps loudly, nails digging into Shiro’s firm shoulders.

Shiro makes her come like that, safe and sound in her arms with Keith’s legs dangling in the air, toes curling with pleasure. Shiro tells Keith what a good girl she is, Keith lets her call her her baby when Shiro kisses blue moons to her neck. Maybe Shiro is a little drunk after all, or perhaps it’s just Keith, but she feels light-headed and pretty and so, so happy.

And Keith makes Shiro come, too. She fumbles a bit when she eats Shiro out, makes it really messy and wet but these things only make it hotter for Shiro. It usually takes her awhile to come, sometimes she can’t come _at all_ but Keith makes it so fast and hard and good, that it’s over in a few short minutes.

It feels like something holy, almost.

”Can I stay the night?” Keith asks after it’s all over and they’re panting for breath. She’s still on her friction burned knees in front of Shiro, her hair all messed up and lipstick nonexistent. She’s really pretty, it’s kind of ridiculous, actually.

But the look on her face is hesitant, fragile too. As if she’s terrified of Shiro saying no. Like Shiro ever would. 

”’Course,” she says and helps Keith back on her feet, corrects her dress to more appropriate manner and strokes her hair out of her eyes, smiling. Keith licks her moist lips right before Shiro kisses them cherry red again. Keith’s on her toes and Shiro’s back hurts a little for all the leaning down and holding up. She doesn’t care at all.

”You’re so handsome,” murmurs Keith then. Shiro blinks.

Somehow doesn’t make Shiro feel bad about herself. It’s not insecurity. Or not _only_ insecurity. But sometimes it’s very hard to be a woman like her. 

”So handsome,” Keith whispers again, to herself, like she can’t even believe it.

”Thank you,” Shiro whispers back and leads her to the bedroom, in to her comfortable enough bed, where she holds Keith all fucking night, hoping it will be enough for her to want to stay for a while.

Maybe forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Kudos & comments of any kind make me really happy. <3


End file.
